Page 69 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

Twenty-Five

Amanda

Ethan is acting weird. I know that might not be saying much considering he’s a gambling addict in recovery and a criminal member of a biker gang. But it started the night he went out to investigate the therapy’s office break-in. He told me that he found the guys and that I ‘wouldn’t have to worry anymore’...

But that doesn’t mean the police investigation is done. And I’ve heard nothing from Ethan about his plan for what happens next. We slept together when he got back that night – technically, it was 5 a.m., so morning sex for me. Since then, his strangeness has only amplified.

I confront him over breakfast after two weeks of Ethan acting like a complete weirdo.

“Are you gambling again?”

“What?” he asks, giving me a mean look. I raise my eyebrows at him, because that mean redneck look won’t be enough to get me off his case. I’m not going to let his attitude throw me off.

“You heard me.”

“No. I’ve been clean.”

“I assumed you were keeping me here because you relapsed.”

His glare intensifies. “If you want to go, move out. I’m sure paying three grand for a shithole apartment will be easy for a new business owner.”

“Ethan, is everything okay?”

“I’m FINE!” Ethan roars, slamming down an empty glass and storming off to the bedroom. He has lost his mind. I knew I was right to wait until giving him the news about my new office. Heisweird and this man is absolutely not fine at all. He’s crazy.

I sigh and center myself, which will be critical before dealing with this angry bear of a man. If he’s not gambling again,why the fuck is he acting like this?We barely talk about feelings or the future. Ethan clearly hates Boston, he has no reason to be here anymore now that his mom’s treatment is almost at an end.

Unlike all the other relationships in my life I felt like I had to force, I finally feel like I don’t have to force something. He’s going back to Missouri and I can enjoy the fact that I got turned out by a biker in my mid-thirties.

Calmly, I knock on the bedroom door.

“I’m sleeping,” Ethan says. “Go for a walk, maybe you’ll find a new place to live.”

“Can we talk about it like mature adults?”

Ethan flings the door open with so much force that I flinch. His eyes are fierce, and filled with rage. His body fills the doorway. He’s a giant hunk of muscle and one hand could crush me like a Coke can. I hold my ground despite the physical terror coursing through me. I hold his gaze.

“Now you want to talk like a mature adult.”

“You’re the one throwing a tantrum.”

“You’re the one who won’t admit you give a shit about me, even if… we share a bed.”

Ethan’s voice grows soft, almost weak. Catching himself, he puffs up. “I’m finished with you and your lies. But I’d be careful who to trust if I were you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Your friend isn’t so innocent.”

“No poker? No slot machines?”

“This isn’t about gambling,” he says forcefully.

“Okay. Then what is it about, Ethan?”

“Mallory, your traitorous friend. And you, something even worse.”

“You are nuts.”

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